


Isle of the Fallen

by Spinofflady



Series: Race to the Edge [2]
Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Race To The Edge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-31
Packaged: 2018-08-10 06:24:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7833766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spinofflady/pseuds/Spinofflady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Astrid is rescued by a mysterious girl, and meets up with Dagur, who has also been saved by her. Things seem to be looking up, but when they discover that the island they are on is supposedly haunted, a plan to get home is devised.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Book 2 in my Race to the Edge series. Click here http://archiveofourown.org/works/7786984/chapters/17763346 for Defenders of the Wing, Part 2.

The young woman scampered across the beach, the breeze chilling her wet clothing and body. She wrapped herself in a blanket plopped down on the sand, scanning the ocean with her aqua blue eyes. She tucked a lock of wispy, wavy ebony colored hair behind her ear.

A crab scuttled across the sand, darting into a little hole. Gulls hovered overhead, angry that their meal had been lost. She torn off a chuck of bread, the last of her breakfast, and tossed it up to them. One noticed and dove to pick it up.

The girl smiled and set her blanket aside, ambling up the beach, the sand squeezing up through her bare toes. The midmorning sunlight warmed her tanned face, and the wind whipped her hair around. Annoyed, she gathered it into a simple braid.

She continued up the beach for some time, suddenly noticing a corpse of some form washed up on the shore. It was drifting up and down with the waves, and the water and sand around it was stained red. A larger wave sent it rolling a few feet, only to be pulled back toward the ocean.

Whatever it was had no doubt come from the Wave Racer nest just off shore. She approached it, a sad expression taking over her pleasant face. The corpse was that of a girl, about her own age. Her blonde hair was in the remains of a braid, her feet were bare, and her clothes torn. Her pretty faced was bruised and bleeding in several places, and her lips were chapped and swollen.

  
It was hard to say how long she had been dead, but it could have been more than a day or two, judging by her appearance. She was a strange sight. The only human corpses that washed up on these beaches were that of sailors. Where had she come from?

The girl knelt next to the body to inspect the wounds further. The gash in her knee proved to be by far the worst. Torn flesh hung limply, blood draining from the muscle. Bits of bone were strewn in the tissue, presumably from the crushed kneecap. This didn’t look at all like a Wave Racer bite.

She pushed the messy hair away from the girl’s face, examining the gash above her right eye. The rocky shore must have injured her further. The puncture wounds around her neck were obviously the bite of a Wave Racer. A silver chain could be seen around her collar, so the girl pulled it up. A tiny pendant in the shape of a Deadly Nadder could be found, but it had been hidden beneath her shirt. As she fingered the tiny details of the charm, a wave crashed up over the body, and it shuddered.

The girl cocked her head, watching her with deep curiosity. For a second, she could have sworn she saw breathing. Beginning to wonder it this girl was really dead, she pushed sharply up and under her ribcage, forcing air out of her lungs.

A smile broke out on her face. Had she been dead, her lungs would have been full of water. The girl stood and joyfully waved to her friend down the beach, motioning for him to come over.

. . .

Hiccup woke to knocking at the door. His head was pounding, his neck hurt, and his eyes were sore and puffy. He sat up, confused as to why he was in Astrid’s hut. The events of the night before came rushing back. He glanced up as the door creaked open, and Heather peaked in.

“Hi,” she said with a sad smile, stepping in and shutting the door behind her. “I brought you some tea. It should help your headache.”

He took the mug from her, offering a similar smile. “How’d you know about the headache?”  
Heather sighed. “Let’s just say I woke up with one, too.”

Hiccup took a sip of the tea, and swirled the contents around in the mug. “She was my best friend.”

“She was more that, Hiccup. We all know how you felt about her. You were pretty obvious.” Heather expected a snappy, sarcastic comeback, but Hiccup only stared at the mug, swirling the tea around. This was so unlike him. She hadn’t known him for very long, but she knew that he always bounced back quickly.

When Viggo stole the dragon eye, he had searched day and night for him. When he had been kidnapped by hunters and taken to the dragon fights, he hardly even thought twice about the fact that he had been imprisoned for days. When he had gotten lost with her- with Dagur, he had never spoken of the incident again.

Hiccup was one of the most resilient people she knew. She certainly didn’t expect him to forget that Astrid was gone, but it stuck her as odd that he would close up like this. Maybe it was too much of her to expect him to recover from this as quickly as he did with everything else.

Maybe Astrid was the reason he was able to bounce back so quickly. As she thought about it, she could remember a conversation between them after every incident. No wonder he liked her! She was a support he could always fall back on. She never let him down.

Heather wished she could offer him whatever it was that Astrid did; she hated to see her friend this way. She had always looked to him for the strength to keep going, and she was sure the others did, too. When they were ready to give up, Hiccup was always able to get them back on their feet.

He and Astrid had been a team—when one couldn’t go any further, the other took over. Astrid had absorbed so much strength from him that when he gave out, she was able to instill in him a new enthusiasm to go on. Without Astrid, Hiccup couldn’t “bounce back.” She was the “bounce back.”

The thought was rather moving.

“I made lunch, if you’re hungry.” she said quietly, attempting to break the awkward silence.

“Lunch?”

“Yeah, you slept really late.”

Hiccup went silent again. “I’ll be there in a minute,” he responded finally.

Heather smiled gently and left, knowing it was quite likely that he wouldn’t show himself for the meal.

. . .

Sound didn’t come first this time.

Pain did.

Hot, torturous pain seared through her right knee, making it hard to focus on anything else. She heard herself moan. Each breathe had to be deliberately drawn in. Her throat ached; it felt raw, as if she had coughed endlessly for hours. Her neck hurt as well, but not nearly as much as her knee. She hurt all over. She shifted gingerly, but the overwhelming pain caused her to realize she wasn’t going anywhere.

“Astrid?”

That voice. It was familiar. She couldn’t figure out who it belonged to. It wasn’t Hiccup, for sure, but she could tell it was a man’s voice. Her father? No, that wasn’t it.

“Wake up, Astrid. Come on. I know you can hear me.”

The more she heard it, the closer she came to recognizing the sound. The haze of pain made concentrating all but impossible. She tried to swallow, hoping to moisten her dry mouth.  
“Come on, Astrid. Wake up.”

A strange sense of gentleness could be heard in the voice, one that didn’t quite seem to belong there. Curious, Astrid forced her heavy eyelids to separate. Her vision slowly focused as she turned it on the closest object. It took her a few seconds to identify the person.

“Dagur?”

Dagur’s face lit up with a smile; a crazed, but sincere one. “You’re awake!”

“Yeah, and you’re dead.” Her own voice was hoarse and soft, and speaking made her neck hurt worse.

Dagur laughed. “No, but I was pretty close to it. I’m ashamed of you though, Astrid. I thought you would know it takes more than a few booby traps to get rid of me.”

Astrid’s hazy mind had a hard time keeping up with the words Dagur was saying. She could feel blood rushing to her feet as she started to black out again. Refusing to give in to the feeling, she sucked in a deep breath and shut her eyes for a moment.

“How…how did you survive?” She asked him, ignoring the pain of speaking. She had to know.

“A girl named Tove. She found me floating in the water near that Hunter port. I had some pretty bad burns and a few arrow wounds, but she patched me up. I can’t leave this island yet.   
Apparently I’m still not well enough.”

Astrid had never noticed how incredibly expressive Dagur was before now. They had always titled him “deranged” but he was really just “dramatic.” He was exactly the way Heather wasn’t.

A girl appeared behind Dagur. Astrid fixed her gaze on her, studying the newcomer. She didn’t seem particularly tall, but she looked strong. Her dress was made of a threadbare gray cloth, and was adorned with a simple leather belt around her waist. An unsheathed dagger was tucked in the belt, a few speaks of rust dotting the blade.

It was clear that she was about Astrid’s age, but her face portrayed a much younger innocence. Her raven black hair was so wavy it was almost curly, falling to her middle back in wispy strands. Her face was much tanner than that of any Viking Astrid had seen. Her eyes were a deep aqua blue, framed by thick black lashes. They were eyes that could hide anything, Astrid thought.

The girl tapped Dagur on the shoulder, and when he looked up at her she began to move her hands in a very odd, yet specific, way. Dagur watched and nodded, as if he understood what she was doing.

“Astrid, this is Tove,” Dagur started, motioning to the girl beside him. “She wants to know how you feel.”

“Terrible,” she replied, suppressing the cough that tried to come out with the words. “Like I’ve been beaten from head to foot and then trampled by a Quaken.”

Dagur turned back to Tove and moved his hands in a similar way, but much more slowly and haltingly. Tove smiled and offered Astrid a sympathetic look before walking back out of the room.

“What’s with the hands?” she asked Dagur once Tove had left.

“Tove can’t hear,” he replied, “so she uses her hands to talk. Like you guys do with your dragons.”

“How did you learn it?”

“When it’s the only way you can communicate, you pick it up pretty quick.”

“Oh.” It was all she could manage to say. She swallowed thickly, her neck throbbing with the action. The cuts and scrapes that covered her body burned, and her knee felt as though it was being stabbed over and over again with a stone knife.

She heard Dagur get up and leave, and she found that she wished he had stayed. There was something so different about him; he was actually decent company.

She felt a gentle hand patting her cheek, trying to rouse her. With a great deal of effort, she opened her eyes and stared up at Tove. The girl held up a cup, obviously wanting Astrid to drink the contents.

Astrid tried and failed to sit up, and with a caring smile, Tove helped her into a semi-upright position. The movement hurt so badly, but Astrid was too weak to protest. Tove placed the cup to her lips and nodded, encouraging her to drink.

She took a small sip, finding the liquid to be warm and sweet, and it felt wonderful going down her parched, aching throat. She took a few more slow, tiring sips before she had no energy left at all.

Tove seemed to realize that she was exhausted, and gently leaned her back down on the straw filled pillows. She gave Astrid a comforting smile, one worth a thousand words, and left.

The girl lay of the cot, motionless, as any movement caused an unbearable amount of pain. Everything hurt; just breathing made her want to scream. She wished Hiccup were here. She had no idea where she was, the only familiar face was Dagur. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Dagur; it was that she didn’t have someone to help her if Dagur couldn’t be trusted.

Astrid wasn’t too sure about Tove, either. The girl seemed trustworthy, but Astrid never trusted anyone by how they seem. She tried to move so that the back of her head would stop throbbing, but it only made the pain worse. She whimpered as a wave of agony pulsed through her body. It was then that she wanted nothing more than to go home.

Were the other riders looking for her? Did they think she was dead? Was Stormfly safe? What she wouldn’t give to know if her dragon had made it home safely. What she wouldn’t give to have Hiccup rescue her again, to gather her up and carry her away, as gently as he possibly could. To have his armsprotectively around her as he flew her home, and to tell her everything would be all right. She tried to imagine being gently cradled against his chest, Hiccup whispering in her ear that she would be okay.

Tears formed in her eyes. She had never felt so alone in her life. She had never been in so much pain in her life. Fighting the agony, she rolled onto her side, easing the pain in the back of her head. She gingerly curled up in the blankets, silently crying herself to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

The weeks passed slowly for Astrid, but gradually became easier to bear as she got to know Tove and Dagur better. She found that Dagur was quite the comedian, almost constantly cracking jokes and talking nonstop. It wasn’t hard to tell that loved to laugh and have fun. He was probably just glad there was someone else to talk to.

Astrid knew it wasn’t highly advised, but she was beginning to see Dagur as a friend. He seemed determined to prove that he had really changed. He wanted to help her in any way he could, and his face would light up whenever she offered him a kind word.

Tove proved to be quite the healer, and Astrid was soon hobbling around their hut. Dagur constructed a sort of brace/splint thing, and while wearing it, Astrid could almost forget that her knee had been shattered.

She was finally allowed to explore the island, as long as Dagur came along. The two plodded around the wooded inland, laughing as Dagur tried to explain the uselessness of giving things scientific names. Astrid found it absolutely hilarious, but the more he went on, the more she missed her friends.

Fishlegs loved science. He would have defended the names as if it were a crime to disagree with them. The situation no longer seemed funny, and all she could think about was going home.

“What’s wrong with you?” Dagur asked when he realized she wasn’t having fun anymore.

“Dagur, do you think we’ll ever get home?” She sank down on a fallen log, propping her head up in her hands.

Dagur plopped down next to her. “You will. Hiccup will show up looking for you. He’s so predictable.”

“That’s just it,” she sighed. “He’s predictable. He should have come by now. I’ve been here three weeks.”

“He’ll come. He’s Hiccup!”

Astrid hung her head. “He’s never taken this long before. I’m starting to wonder if they’re even looking. Or maybe they are and just aren’t looking in the right spot. Whatever the case, I think we need to find a way to get home on our own.”

Dagur’s face fell. “Astrid…I want you to be able to go home. I want to help you get home. But I don’t think you understand something very important. Dragon’s Edge isn’t my home. Berk isn’t my home. I don’t really have a home. As far as I’m concerned, living by myself is the closest thing to home, and I’m in no rush to leave this island.”

“You can make Dragon’s Edge your home. Hiccup would-”

“I’m sorry Astrid, but I can’t stay at Dragon’s Edge. Not if Heather’s there. She doesn’t want me around; not that I blame her. Heather is not ready for me to be in the same place. She doesn’t trust me.”

“But don’t you miss her?”

“Of course I miss her! She’s all the family I have left. I wish we treated each other like family, but we don’t, and I just need to give Heather distance right now.”

Astrid knew Dagur was right. Heather didn’t need him around. But she could see how much he wished he could be near his sister. Heather had told her how protective he had been of her; threatening Ryker and warning him not to so much as touch his little sister. Going against Viggo’s specific instructions and freeing her and her dragon. The way he had ardently searched for her, the way he referred to her as “my Heather.” She meant a lot to him, and being separated from her really hurt Dagur.

Astrid could relate. Her older brother, Finn, had died of sickness when she was seven years old, but she missed him more than anyone on earth. They had been close, she and Finn, and it broke her heart when he passed away. He had given her the love of a good axe, and taught her to fight.

She could remember when one of her brother’s rivals had thrown her axe in a pond and was threatening to throw her in, too. He was just being a bully, but Finn had beat him up and made him fish around in the water until her found her axe and brought it back.

Astrid knew Dagur would be that kind of big brother, given the chance.

She noticed how dark the sky was becoming. Standing shakily, she mentioned to Dagur they should probably head back. He agreed, and the two set off for home.   
As they traveled down the worn trail, they noticed a cave in the rocks. Curious, they stepped in, stopping to glance at a large rock erected in the center of the entryway.

“Look, there’s writing on it,” Dagur said, his voice hushed.

“Isle of the Fallen; Gateway to Valhalla,” Astrid began, running her fingers over the carved letters. “Read on, brave soul, if of truth you have no fear. On this island of ghosts, the dead you can hear. Their moans and their cries will make your heart faint, but your eyes will not see them writhing in pain. Turn back, stay not, else you share their fate.”

“Creepy…” Dagur glanced around nervously, subtly backing away from the stone.

Astrid had to admit that the words were frightening, but she had no intention of showing that. Besides, whoever had carved the words in the stone had clearly lived long enough to come up with the poem, and then had the time to etch it into the rock.

She motioned for Dagur to follow her out of the cave. “Come on, we need to get back.”

“No, Astrid, you don’t understand. I’ve heard it. I’ve heard the moaning.”

Astrid groaned. “Really?”

“Yes, really! I was walking and I heard someone moaning! Plain as day! I swear!”  
“Dagur if you mean to tell me that there are ghosts on this island, and that you heard them, you are more deranged than we thought.”

“I’m not deranged! I heard it!”

“Dagur there is no-”Her sentence was cut short by a long, clear moan, echoing through the cave.

“I told you,” Dagur whispered, his eyes wide.

“I believe you,” Astrid whispered back, her eyes just as wide. “Let’s get out of here.”

Dagur nodded and both stepped cautiously out of the cave.Another moan sounded somewhere in the distance, surprising both of them. Astrid turned quickly to see what was behind her, and she banged her knee against the side of the cave.

It would have hurt anyway, but the previous injury more than tripled the pain. “Ow!” she groaned, stumbling a few steps. Dagur turned to help her, but stopped short, as a perfect echo of her voice reverberated back through the cave. It didn’t sound quite like an echo, though. It sounded too clear, too original, to be an echo.

“Ow.”

The sound came again, exactly the way Astrid had said it before, with her teeth slightly together, and more emphasis on the start of the word.

“I don’t think that was an echo,” Dagur said softly.

“Ow.” It was louder this time.

“Run,” Astrid mouthed, gesturing with her head. Dagur nodded again and both started to jog away from the cave. Astrid ignored the growing pain that traveled up her leg and into the older yet still present arrow wound in her right thigh. Her leg started to burn, but the fear of what could possibly be behind her kept her going.

Dagur suddenly grabbed her arm and pulled her into a nearby clearing and the two ducked behind a fallen log. Attempting to catch their breaths, they sat on the ground for several minutes.

“You got a plan?” Dagur asked her quietly.

“A plan for what?”

“To get out of here,” he replied. “I don’t want to stick around any longer than I have to.”

Astrid smiled weakly. “Hiccup usually does the planning.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t.”

“Means I don’t have much practice.”

A grumble came from above them, low and dragon-like. The two Vikings slowly looked up and behind them, and sure enough, a dragon glared down at them. A Gronkle, to be specific.

It snarled at them, its eyes glowing with a thrill to kill. Dagur grabbed the closest rock and tossed it to the Gronkle, whograbbed it in mid air. It clearly liked the rock and climbed down off the log, licking Dagur ferociously and trying to climb into his lap.

“Okay, big boy!” Dagur laughed, pushing the dragon away. “I love you too! How ‘bout a name?”

The dragon rolled over next to him, asking for belly rubs.

“Something awesome…Deathpaw? Windcrasher?” he tried each name aloud, all of which seemed completely unfit for the affectionate Gronkle. “Wait! I’ve got the perfect name! Deathcrasher!”

Astrid watched awkwardly, wondering why he would give such a terrifying name to this particular dragon. It didn’t matter what he named it, as long as it could help them get home. “So, do you think Deathcrasher can get us home?”

“Of course he can! Can’t you big boy? Big sweet boy! Aren’t you so cute? Yes you are! Yes you are!” Dagur continued to shower the dragon in excessive amounts of love. It was clear he had a soft spot for Gronkles.

“What are we waiting for?” Astrid said staggering to her feet. “Let’s go home!”

Dagur stood, and Deathcrasher attempted to stand with him, but stayed stuck on his back. Dagur had to roll him over, which took a good deal of effort. They were just about to mount the dragon when someone cleared their throat behind them.

They turned to find Tove, glaring at them, her hands on her hips, obviously upset that they hadn’t returned yet. The two both started signing at once, trying to explain everything; the moaning in the cave, Astrid’s creepy echo, and Deathcrasher.

Tove quirked an eyebrow and nodded, as if to say “oh, sure.” She herded them back to the hut, and no amount of protesting could stop her. She apparently did not like their new dragon friend; refusing to allow the Gronkle to follow them.

The running had pulled out a few stitches in Astrid’s knee; Tove was not at all pleased about that. She re-sewed the wound and changed the bandaging, warning her not to do any strenuous activity again.

Astrid and Dagur decided they could wait until the next day to leave, but both lay awake into the wee hours of the morning, convinced they could hear the moaning just outside.

. . .

Hiccup lay awake, counting the planks of wood on his ceiling. He already knew there were 243 and a half, but he continued double-checking anyway. He couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t anything uncommon nowadays. For the past month, his life had been turned upside down and inside out.

He had finally finished packing up Astrid’s hut, and her things had been sent home the previous day. Astrid’s duties had been divvied up among the others, but she was still missed daily.

Hiccup missed her more than anyone. He missed her enthusiasm, her genuine optimism (most of the time), and her encouragement. He thrived on her encouragement. More than anything, he missed her words of affirmation and faith in him.

His attention was drawn to the door, and the horrible scratching noise beyond it. He tried to ignore it, but soon discovered it wasn’t going away. With a sigh, he hauled himself out of bed and shuffled to the door. He pulled up on the bar and the door slid up, revealing a small, black Night Terror.

The dragon trembled as if from fear, and scurried inside and cowered behind his trunk, terrified. Hiccup glanced outside for the source of its fear, but found nothing, and shut the door.

“Hey, little guy,” he crooned, attempting to coax the frightened reptile out of its hiding spot. It hissed at him savagely. Hiccup was confused by the Night Terror’s odd behavior. These dragons were exceptionally trusting and friendly, but this one seemed determined to defy all stereotypes.

Hiccup plucked a piece of Yak jerky from the treat stash he kept for Toothless and held it out as a peace offering. “Come on out; I won’t hurt you.”

The moment it got a whiff of the food, it crept forward and snatched it from him, only to retreat behind the chest again. It seemed strange that the dragon would be so terrified of him. Hiccup watched as it gobbled down the food, and suddenly began to notice the scars that covered its body.

Arrow wounds, muzzle marks, and other cuts and gashes showed years of abuse. Abuse from humans. The dragon must have escaped from the dragon hunters and flown back to its original home.

It made sense that it would try to hide in his hut. His hut was probably the closest thing to a cage it could find, as the hanger was always kept closed up at night. The poor thing had learned to see cages as a place of refuge, and was seeking out somewhere safe to hide.

Hiccup tossed another piece of jerky to the dragon. Again, it came out for the food, but immediately hid when it had finished eating. It finally poked his head out from behind the trunk, obviously looking for more food. The second they made eye contact though, the dragon vanished.

An idea came to him. He laid back and placed the rest of the jerky on his stomach, and stared at the ceiling, once again counting the log planks. He’d made it to 224 by the time he felt the Night Terror crawling onto his stomach, nibbling cautiously on the jerky.

Hiccup didn’t dare breathe for fear the dragon would spook. He silently willed Toothless to stop snoring, but the small creature didn’t seem to mind that. The jerky quickly disappeared, and much to Hiccup’s delight, the dragon curled up next to him. There was the trusting Night Terror nature!

Hiccup slowly sat up and put a hand out for it to smell. It growled at first, but soon began warily sniffing his fingers. Hiccup smiled as it slowly allowed him to stroke its marred face.

A low rumble erupted from its throat, similar to a purr, and it climbed into his lap for more affection. The young man laughed slightly, almost for the first time since losing Astrid. The dragon rolled over exposing the underside and a paper tied to its back leg.

Curious, he pulled the leather cord off and unrolled the paper. It was stained and almost unreadable, but he was able to make out the words: “HICCUP- STRANDED. NEED HELP. HURRY.”

The note wasn’t signed, but a tiny picture of an island could be seen at the bottom. He knew exactly where that island was, and knew he could make it there before morning.

The question was should he?

He turned the note over, searching for some type of signature, but there was nothing. The dragon in his lap batted at the cord dangling from his other hand, still purring contentedly.

A strange sense of Déjà vu settled over him, one brought about by staring at the cord. He had seen it somewhere else, he knew he had, but where? His mind tried to picture it in different places, but none seemed to fit. The only place he could remember seeing it was…Astrid’s arm!

The pieces snapped together in his mind. This was the leather cord from her arm guards, the one tied around her bicep! One side was lighter, the one the normally faced outward, bleached by the sun and worn from weather. Astrid was stranded on this island—but far more importantly, she was alive! Or was, at the time this note was written.

He jumped up, the poor Terror being thrown from his lap. He was about to wake Toothless, but a thought stopped him. If by some chance he were injured or captured, Toothless would not be able to escape on his own. The trip could possibly endanger his friend’s life.

Hiccup walked softly across the room and slipped out the door, making a break for Astrid’s hut. He opened her door and stepped in, his heart aching painfully at the sight of the empty room.

Stormfly slept in the corner, where she always had. She woke at the creaking of the door, but settled down when she realized it was only Hiccup.

He approached her and started to scratch her scaly face. The dragon nuzzled the cord, seemingly realizing whose scent it carried. The spines that framed her face stood up as she nosed it curiously.

“Come on, Stormfly,” Hiccup instructed with forceful determination. “Let’s go get Astrid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow guys! Sorry that took so long! I've been super busy!
> 
> I know, I left you on another cliff hanger, so keep a eye out for the next book, "Slings and Arrows." 
> 
> Want to make my day? Leave kudos and a comment! I love to know your thoughts!
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> ~Spinofflady

**Author's Note:**

> So, what do you think guys? Will you make my day and leave kudos and a comment?
> 
> Seriously, I love the feed back.
> 
> Chapter two is coming soon, I promise!


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